


Everything's okay

by NovemberWings



Series: Everything's okay (Trans! John Deacon) [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s, 1970s Era Queen (Band), 1970s Era Roger Taylor (Queen), Accepting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can be read as slash, Coming Out, Cramps, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Living Together, M/M, Menstruation, Period Typical Attitudes, Potential triggers to do with transgender issues, Self-Hatred, Swearing, Trans Male Character, Trans!John Deacon, loving, or friends, period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 12:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberWings/pseuds/NovemberWings
Summary: John has just moved in to live with the other members of Queen, and he's very slowly started feeling as if he's part of the group that he came to a year later than the others.But John is terrified of the others finding out about his secret - that he was born a girl. If he had it his way they would never find out but when John has a particularly bad period Roger accidentally stumbles on him and realises that his bandmate, that his friend, needs help - he needs someone to look after him.And Roger doesn't mind looking after him one bit.





	Everything's okay

“Fuck.” John moaned as he woke up. He glanced to his side to see the electric alarm clock that read 6.48, about 40 minutes before it would normally sing to wake him up, but his stomach had acted as the dreaded alarm today. He had been getting shocks of pain in his stomach and down his spine for the past few days – letting him know that he was going to start soon and that it was going to be a bad one.

John had never met anyone else with such a weird cycle before in his life. Most people either got cramps or they didn’t but with John it was weird. Usually he was fine, he would obviously get the tenderness and the short temper that he was pretty sure everyone with a period got but every third period, or something along those lines, he would get unbearably bad cramps. As in completely debilitating – couldn’t get out of bed cramps.

And this was his third. He knew the cramps were going to be bad from the shock he got yesterday when he was eating dinner with the boys. He took his first bite and the second that the food hit his stomach everything tensed up and it was if an electric shock had run up his spine. It had been so sudden and sharp he had accidently given out an audible gasp. All the boys had turned to him, concerned, but he brushed it off as heartburn and they dropped it.

That sharp pain had been replaced with an almost constant feeling of anxiety because this would be his first bad period living with the rest of the boys. Before, when he had been living on his own while in the band, he would just make an excuse on why he couldn’t come in – and none of them knew that he was trans so he knew that no one would be marking the dates down and be able to figure out the real reason. There was no way he could hide this though. Period sickness was so different from everything else – he couldn’t pass it off as a different ailment convincingly. He was starting to hope that maybe if they didn’t see him all day they would just leave him alone in his room – but he knew that was a futile wish. He was always up at 7.30 sharp and they would definitely notice.

As he felt his stomach churn one more time he let out a groan, which he stifled with his hand as to not rouse one of the boys, and realised that he needed to deal with the problem at hand before the boys woke up. Slowly and painfully he managed to peel the sheets back, and while the cool air on his bare legs felt good, the pleasure of it was completely destroyed by the nauseating rush that ran through his system, the cramp at his sudden movement and the terror at seeing the sticky blood stain on the bed and on his boxer shorts. He could feel tears start to burn behind his eyes, and furiously he blinked them away.

Nope. Not now. Not now.

He heaved himself out of bed and shuffled down the corridor, as fast as he could, to the bathroom with a new pair of boxers and a tampon in his hands. He tried to be quick, but he felt sluggish and as if his limbs were made of lead. It took too long but he managed to sort himself out, and was out of the bathroom with his bloody boxer shorts in his hand. He couldn’t wash them – blood stained like a bitch – and if he tried the other boys would see. He would throw them in the bin when he took the bins out later. The idea of that particular task made him want to vomit and groan but he had to keep it together for now. Now there was another task to be doing. He needed to change the bedsheets and hide the bloody ones.

The first thing he did when his bedroom door was closed behind him was turn his alarm off. He didn’t need that waking any of the boys up, and he started the slow process of stripping the bed. Every movement jarred his stomach and made his sensitive breasts ache. He really didn’t want to put his binder on – it pressed down on his tummy and made the cramps worse – which was another reason he usually just stayed in bed but he knew that that wasn’t an option this time. 

When he managed to pull the heavy duvet off and pulled the bottom two corners of the sheet off he was completely overcome by dizziness and a sharp cramp and had to lie down to let it pass. He purposefully avoided the all too visible stain, before resting his head on his pillow and curling up into a foetal position, holding his stomach tightly – as if the tighter he held it the sooner that cramps – or even the whole period – would go away.

As he lay there he could feel sadness encroaching on him. This would be the rest of his life. Every third period he would be completely useless and broken. For the rest of his life he would have these disgusting breasts stuck to his front. Everyday he would have to wear that stupid binder that hurt his ribs and stopped him taking a deep, satisfying breath.

And as he wallowed in his own pitying grief, a tear dripped off the end of his nose, as his thoughts of self-hatred went beyond the biology he hated so very much. 

He hadn’t told the others. If he had just told them, if he hadn’t been so cowardly at the beginning and just let them know, he wouldn’t have grown so attached. The heart break would have been nothing compared to what it will be now when they reject him.

Here he was; planning to throw away his bloody boxers and stained bed sheet as if they wouldn’t notice. They would hate him for what he is. They would be disgusted with him for lying and even if they didn’t want him gone because he was a freak they wouldn’t want someone who could just so openly lie to their face every time they said his name.

They told each other everything. Freddie was open about his sexuality. Roger told them about every girl and every conquest and Brian told them about his battle with depression. Why did John think he was so special? What made him think that he got to skip out on the honesty that held the band together like glue.

While Queen was his life he understood why they would ask him to leave. He would be resigned to that. But what he knew was going to hurt more, than even this cramp right now, was the look of hatred, disappointment and disgust that would be painted on each of their features. At the thought of that he had to move one hand from his stomach to cover his mouth as sobs started falling out of his throat. He took a desperate and rasping breath in between his sobs. The crushing feeling on his heart and the terrible cramp of his stomach combined and he felt as if he was truly going to die.

One of the boys, probably Brian, would come in after patiently knocking and getting no response and find him. He would be curled in the foetal position, he face relaxed in death surrounded by a pool of blood. That’s how they would remember him. Not as John Deacon the bass player. Not as their friend but as the dead body with breasts in a pool of its own menstrual blood.

He took in another rasping breath which facilitated the next sob. John cringed at the sound of it. It was weak but worst of all it was loud. Too loud. It happened like a horror movie. First he heard the bedroom door next to his click open and then the floor board outside his room creek.

He stared at his bed room door in horror as the handle was pushed down and the door opened a crack as Roger shuffled in and closed the door behind him before turning to look at John’s pathetic form. 

“No.” John sobbed out mournfully as he knew that this was it. He had tried relentlessly to hide this but this was the end.

“Deaks?” Roger said as he looked on him, completely taken aback by what he saw of John, lying down sobbing.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Rog. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure it’s okay. What’s happened?” Roger’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, probably to be soothing to John or to keep the others asleep, but it didn’t ease John’s heartbreak and with that heartbreak he felt his mouth dry up and he knew that he didn’t have an answer for the question but even if he did he didn’t have time to supply his answer before Roger’s tired expression completely sobered into a wide awake panic. “John where are you bleeding?” He said rushing over to the bedside. Roger crouched down his eyes flicking over John’s crumpled up body – trying to find the source of the bleeding. His eyes were completely wild and his breathing erratic, Roger had never been good in an emergency.

“I’ll go get Brian, okay. He’ll know what to do.” He went to quickly run and get Brian but John’s hand shot out, faster than he thought he could move, and caught Roger by the wrist.

“No.” He said with as much strength as he could muster. “Don’t want them to know.” His tears were flowing harder.

“Deaks, I can’t help you. I don’t know what to do.” Roger’s own tears had started falling down his cheeks at his complete uselessness.

“There’s nothing you can do.” John said before he gave a harsh swallow, not daring to release Roger. “Let me explain. Please.” The begging in his voice was so clear it was physically summoned so Roger nodded shakily, lowering himself to kneel by the bed so he could look in John’s face from his height. John let go of Roger’s wrist and saw red marks from where his fingers had restrained his friend, making him somehow feel worse.

“I just want to let you know I’m really sorry.” He managed to say coherently through his tears.

“It’s alright. It’s fine.” Roger whispered as he leant in to push the hair off John’s sweat covered forehead.

“I’m not hurt.” He paused, realising the stupidity and falsehood of that statement which made him give a sharp laugh, which was subsequently followed by a hiss when his stomach flared up as a result of the jarring movement.

“John?” Roger’s worry growing.

“Well I’m hurting but I’m not injured.” He clarified, but Roger frowned in response.

“I don’t understand.” His eyes flicking over John’s body again, trying to understand the impossible statement. John knew it was time now.

“I’m on my period… I just have really bad cramps… and I kind of bled onto my-my sheets.” He felt another dam break behind his eyes as he started crying hard again. Roger let out a nervous laugh – clearly at an understandable loss.

“’Period’ as in a girl’s period.” John winced at Roger’s phrasing, but his tone wasn’t mocking it was still concerned.

“Yeah.” John replied through gritted teeth, from the pain. “My body is a girl’s. You know Freddie is gay there’s another part of that… whole thing and it’s people who don’t want to be the gender they’re born as… and that’s me.” He spoke quickly. He wanted this to be over and he could feel nausea bubbling in his tummy. “Rog.” He said urgently, “Can you fetch me the bin I’m going to be sick.” His words rushed.

Roger quickly straightened up and ran to grab the waste-paper basket in the corner of the room and had barely gotten it under John’s head as he leant over the bed before John heaved and threw up a little. John clasped his stomach and let out a pained sob as his groin started to ache deeply along with his stomach.

He knew he was a mess as he lay among the stained sheets, half lying over the edge of the bed, his head in a bin full of sick with his hands desperately clasping at his stomach, and with the added humiliation of tears and snot all over his face.

“Fuck.” Roger breathed out as he gently put his hand on John’s back which made him flinch. “Shit sorry did that hurt?” He pulled his hand away quickly.

“No. It just surprised me.” John said as he slowly heaved himself back up onto to the bed. Instead of lying in a foetal position again he lay on his back and pressed down on his stomach, which made him feel better. He turned his head to glance at Roger, about to thank him for bringing the basket over but he saw Roger’s eyes were wide and when he followed the direction of Roger’s eyes he saw that he was staring at his chest, which in this position clearly showed the two lumps of his breasts. “I’m sorry.” He said as he looked away in shame.

“No, mate, it’s alright. It doesn’t matter to me I’m just a little shocked.” Roger said, as he averted his eyes to try and look at John’s face who had turned his head away. Roger sat down on the edge of the bed, in the little room that John had made by lying on his back rather than on his side, before he reached over to John’s face and gently grabbed his chin to turn his head; to force him to look at Roger’s face. “I didn’t realise how bad periods were. Why didn’t you tell us sooner, Deaks? We could have helped you through this, you didn’t have to do this alone.” Roger’s eyes were sad, but evidently he wasn’t sad because John hadn’t told him, but because John was alone.

John couldn’t believe his ears and couldn’t help but to stare in complete and utter disbelief. He must have been staring at Roger’s face for a beat too long because Roger waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“You there?” To which John nodded.

“Yeah… I’m just really surprised you’re… not mad at me. That you don’t hate me.” He felt more tears slide down his cheeks. Shock found Roger’s face.

“Why would I hate you?!” Roger exclaimed, his voice maybe a little too loud, making them both hold their breath in anticipation of one of the other’s coming in but nothing happened. “Why would I be mad?” His voice much softer and sadder this time.

“Because I wasn’t honest. Because I’m wrong.” John shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Don’t be silly, Deaks.” Roger reached forward and brushed some tears off his flushed cheeks before pushing his hair off his sweat covered forehead. “You’re not wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you. None of us think there’s something wrong with Freddie so why would there be something wrong with you, hmm?” He said as he pulled his hand back. John frowned. In his mind what he and Freddie were were so different and not even that comparable but to Roger at least it was the same level of acceptable.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Roger asked and he reached over to take one of John’s hands and hold it in his own.

“It’s just that I didn’t want to tell you at the beginning because I thought you wouldn’t let me in the band if you knew… and I know I’m not one of the main members and I just got so attached I didn’t want you to kick me out so I thought it would be best if you never knew. I’m sorry that you found out, please don’t kick me out of the band, Rog. The others don’t know and I’ll do something for you if you want. You can take my writing credits or…” He trailed off because he didn’t really know what else he could offer Roger but he was pretty sure he would give him anything at this point. His words came tumbling out with no forethought or planning. It was just the truth. Everything that had been sitting constantly in the back of his mind for the year that he had been in Queen. He stared at Roger’s face which had started to grow more and more pale as he spoke.

“Fucking hell, John.” Roger said, but he didn’t pull away and instead he started stroking John’s thumb with his own in slow soothing circles. “I don’t want anything from you, okay.” He spoke slowly, clearly understanding what state John was in, “and we’re not going to kick you out because of this. We couldn’t kick you out even if we wanted too because you’re one of the important members of Queen, just like me, Brian and Fred. You’re not replaceable, John. I can’t believe you thought that. You really should have said something, mate.” He paused, “not necessarily about the girl-thing, if you were frightened, but you can come and talk to us if you’re feeling low like that.”

John seriously couldn’t believe his ears as he processed the words. He had imagined them finding out so many times and in none of the thousands of scenarios he had created had they reacted like this. Just complete and utter acceptance.

“Everything’s okay?” He asked, his voice breaking. Roger nodded.

“Completely, 100% okay.” John sniffled.

“Okay.” He said, a little disbelievingly. There was a beat of silence before Roger spoke up again.

“How can I help with this? Anything I can do?” His tone sincere.

“No it’s alright. I can manage.” He gave a weak smile.

“Total bullshit. I’m not going to leave you on your own to clean up when you’re in this state. I’m not a fucking monster. Come on, move to my bed.” He said as he stood up from John’s bed.

“Really, Rog, I get you not wanting me to be in your room because of everything. I’ll be fine.” He was so worried about getting in the way on top of everything else. Roger groaned.

“Oh my god, Deaky I don’t care. It’s all good. You go a lie down in my bed, I’ll bring you the sick bucket and some water and I’ll clean up in here.”

“Roger…” He said weakly, just because he had a lack of anything to say.

“I assume you’re wearing something so you won’t bleed everywhere?” Roger asked and John nodded in response, “Come on then.” Roger said as he leant down and took John’s elbow and helped pull him into a sitting position. John sat for a moment before Roger asked; “Ready?” And he nodded. Roger gave his arms another tug and helped him into a standing position. The second John was on his feet another wave of dizziness hit him and his vision turned black.

“Rog.” He said as he could feel himself starting to sway.

“I’ve got you.” He heard from his left before he felt Roger’s body push up against his side and Roger’s arm circle around his waist. As his vision came back John managed to choke out.

“I’m sorry.” He said as he leant heavily on Roger.

“Stop apologising, you’ve done nothing wrong. Alright, let’s try walking.” Roger said as he started helping John walk to the door and into Roger’s room.

John all but fell onto Roger’s bed before he curled in on himself once again in the foetal position, holding his stomach tightly.

“Can I get anything to help?” Roger asked as he started running his hand through John’s curls. John hesitated for a moment before he decided to finally trust that Roger only wanted to help – and maybe if he could ease the cramps he would be able to get up later. Not completely waste the day, any maybe go and help record something.

“If it’s no trouble… could I please get a pain killer and a hot water bottle.” His voice was timid, and it broke Roger’s heart. 

“Sure.” He said as he stood up and left the room closing the door behind him. John lay on his side and gritted his teeth, wishing the pain away. He allowed himself to stare off into the distance and he noticed that Roger’s curtains were open a crack so he stared into the morning sunlight. Soon enough Roger was back and he had a hot water bottle and a pain killer. He handed John the tablet, who swallowed it dry while lying down.

“I still can’t believe you can dry swallow pills.” He laughed as he handed him the water bottle that was red hot – perfect. The comment made John chuckle a little – which surprisingly didn’t hurt his stomach – as he pressed the water bottle onto his stomach. The relief was almost instant and unknowingly he gave out a small sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” His gratefulness almost palpable.

“It’s really no problem. As long as it help you feel better.” Roger smiled so John smiled back. He was so shocked at how calm the situation was. “I’m going to sort out your room and I’ll come back.” John nodded and Roger disappeared again. John was happy that the tablet seemed to kick in quite quickly and the water bottle was really helping, and he managed to find a somewhat comfortable position to contemplate what just happened.

He hadn’t expected that reaction at all. Even in his most hopeful dreams he hadn’t dared dream of anything like this because he was pretty sure that all of this acceptance was beyond the realm of possibility even in a utopia. But here he was; snuggled in Roger’s bed, his eyes drifting shut, his cramps lessening and with Roger’s word that he wasn’t going to be kicked out of Queen. The cherry on the cake was that Roger didn’t even hate him. He wasn’t even angry with him. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like Roger. His eyes had slowly started to close and he fell into a light sleep with a smile on his face.

He didn’t know how much later it was when the door to Roger’s bedroom opened and he jumped awake – the jar not really affecting his stomach. His eyes flicked, a little panicked, to see who had come in and it was only Roger.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“It’s alright.” John said as he shuffled closer to the wall, to give Roger room to sit down on the side of the bed – which he did.

“I made you a sandwich if you think you can eat. Ham and Branston.” He said and John nodded eagerly, sitting up slightly to take the plate. After he had rearranged the hot water bottle, and pulled his t-shirt away from his breasts to try and hide the small lumps as best as possible, he took a bite and found that it somewhat settled his stomach. “So I’ve put your sheet and boxers in a bag and I’ve hidden it under the bed and replaced the blanket and everything but I haven’t made the bed because when I went into the kitchen Fred and Brian were up so I told them that you have a migraine.” He explained. “I said that you were sick in the bin in your room and it smelt, oh yeah and I’ve thrown the sick so don’t worry about that, which was making your head worse and that you could hear the traffic and my room is quieter – which is why you’re in here. So they’re going to leave you alone to sleep it off.” Roger finished and John was impressed that the story was so believable.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. It means more than you know.” He was going to continue – he needed Roger to know how grateful he was – but Roger waved it away.

“It’s fine. Don’t even think about it.” He shrugged as if it was nothing. John hesitated for a moment before he dared to ask;

“Why didn’t you just tell them?” Roger’s eyes grew wide at the question and he shook his head.

“I would never do that.” The disbelief back in his voice, “I wouldn’t tell anyone’s secrets to anyone unless they wanted me to. I wouldn’t do that to you, Deaky. It’s your secret to tell.” He paused, “and know if you do tell them, which I think you should, I’ll be behind you all the way. But having said that I don’t think that there will be any kind of problem.” John nodded as he allowed what Roger had said to sink in.

“Thanks, Roger. Really thank you.”

“It’s cool. It’s just the decent thing to do.” Roger shrugged again, but John reached out and took Roger’s hand.

“Yes it is. But not everyone would have done the decent thing.” There was a beat and John smiled, “You’re a really good friend, Rog.” He said as he squeezed Roger’s hand. Roger smiled and squeezed his hand back.

“You too.” John slowly took his hand back so he could continue eating his sandwich. “Do you want me to stay or go?” Roger asked. “I don’t mind either way.” Roger continued. John knew which he wanted.

“Can you stay?” John asked, glancing into his lap before returning his eyes to Rogers’.

“Sure. Do you want to play scrabble?” Roger asked, a mischievous glint catching his eye.

“You know I do.” John laughed. He was, for the first time in a while, truly happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! So I've really started getting into Queen fanfiction. I felt quite intimidated writing for Queen at first but I'm slowly starting to find my feet! Which I'm happy about because I'm really enjoying writing Queen fics.
> 
> I hope people over here have read my current series; 'The secret school girl' because I feel like if you enjoy that then this is something that you would like and vice versa. The secret school girl has similar themes (and I promise the next installment of the series will be the next thing up!)
> 
> I was halfway writing the next installment of that and this idea popped into my head and my brain baby was born into this fic.
> 
> If you're waiting for the secret school girl I hope that you enjoyed this and that it'll tide you over for the next couple of days before I upload that. And if you have just stumbled across this I hope you enjoyed this! I love writing transgender-themed fics and I would love to hear your feedback on this. I'm really keen to interact with other Queen fans so please let me hear your thoughts!


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